Andy
by SparkilyDragnStikers
Summary: Everyone has insecurities. Everyone has a person that they cannot be them selves around. Even Angel.
1. The Phone Rings

Hey! Ok, this is my first RentFic, and it's a little weird, so bear with me. I'm gonna thank BohemianCane04 for the inspiration, cuz I got the idea while reading her story Even Angels Fall (which I haven't reviewd yet but I swear I will!). Ok, I dont want any flames telling me that Angel is OOC, because that's the point!

I don't own Rent or the characters sigh but if I did, I would hug Angel Dumott Schunard every day before bed!

Collins entered his apartment and his head was immediately overwhelmed with a horridly acrid chemical smell that could only mean one thing: Angel was doing her nails.

"Phew, Angel!" he laughed, waving a hand in front of his face. "Can't you do that somewhere that _isn't_ the apartment?"

"Where else? The Eleventh Street Lot?" Angel replied, holding her left hand up in front of her face and admiring her nails, which she was painting a drop dead gorgeous shade of sparkling pink. She put the polish brush back into the little glass container on the chipped, watermarked coffee table in front of her, then dipped a Q-tip into nail polish remover and dabbed at a pesky spot of color that had strayed past the line of her acrylic nail and onto her skin. Then with her hand still up, she looked over at her lover, smiling a sexy little smirk.

She got up and went over to Collins, planting a sweet kiss on his lips. "How was school?"

"Terrible."

"Aw, poor baby." She smoothed his hair with the hand that she had not painted the nails of yet. "I think I know what will make you feel better." She scurried in her fluffy blue slippers to the kitchen area and pulled out of the fridge a bottle of champagne and off the counter a box of chocolates. She came back and thrust them into Collins' hands, beaming.

"Angel—"

"Now don't you dare say I didn't have to," she said, shaking her finger at him. "There was a group of kids on a school trip from Ohio who I'm willing to bet have never seen a street drummer in their life. I was a blast; they were dancing and laughing and for once I actually felt like my beat was doing something for people. They really enjoyed it. And they tipped well. And then I thought of my poor Collins up in a stuffy classroom tutoring snotty little brats. The least I could do was get you some chocolate and give you a romantic evening.

"Now," she put her hands on his strong chest and looked up into his big chocolate eyes, "you go take a shower, I'll finish my nails, and then we can open up that bottle of champagne, okay, Love?" She kissed him again and then grinned, and sent him on his way, sitting back down to attempt painting her right hand. It was awkward using her left, but she had been doing this for three years.

When her nails were done, she put her manicure supplies back in their box and slipped it under the coffee table. She straightened up the whole room, putting the mismatched pillows on the couch at identical angles, putting away askew books, magazines, and various pieces of junk where they belonged, and brushing off the table with her hand. Then she found two candles in a drawer and set them on the coffee table.

When Collins came back into the living room, his hair still wet from the shower, but dressed nicely in jeans and a shirt that made him look sexy, Angel dashed past him to get changed herself. He caught her by the arm, laughing.

"Angel, what are you doing?"

"Getting changed. I just don't feel attractive enough in this for a romantic night." She indicated her PJ pants, slippers, and tank top.

"Angel, baby, you look beautiful. You know I don't give a damn what you're wearing. I love you."

"I know," Angel smirked. "Not to pop your ego, but I don't make myself pretty for you. I make myself pretty because it makes me happy. I dress for myself. Getting dolled up just puts me _in the mood_," she purred seductively.

She heard faintly as she disappeared into the tiny bedroom Collins say something along the lines of, "Making yourself pretty is about the only thing you do for yourself," but she ignored it. Collins seemed to feel that by putting everyone else before herself _all_ the time, Angel was denying her own happiness. He thought that it was very sweet, and was what he loved about her most, but he wanted her to be happy, and thought that she was making herself unhappy. She loved him to death, but he just could not seem to grasp that Angel could have absolutely nothing and still be happy as long as she could make other people happy.

She found a hot pink miniskirt, a pretty shirt, and bright colored knee-high socks. She didn't bother with her wig or makeup, because she did know, perfectly well, that her looks didn't matter to Collins.

"I'm doing this for myself as well as you, my darling," she said quietly, checking out her reflection as she heard the telephone ring. "There is nothing this girl wants more right now than whispered words and sweet kisses."

She walked out of the bedroom just as Collins was picking up the phone.

"Hello?" he said in his deep voice. "… No, there's no Andy here, I think you have the wrong—"

"What!" Angel shrieked. She tore the phone from a very shocked Collins' hands. "Hello!" she said frantically into the receiver.

The voice on the other end was that of a confused-sounding man. "Hi? Um, I'm looking for Andy Schunard?"

Angel cleared her throat and lowered her voice, feeling very flustered. "This is he."

Collins looked at her like she was an alien.

The guy on the phone continued. "Andy! Hey, it's me, Jason Thompson?"

It took every ounce of Angel's will power not to squeal. "Jason!" she said in macho excitement. "Hey, man, it's been forever! What are you up to?"

Collins' mouth had dropped open.

"I'm in New York on business," Jason said. "I remembered you had run off here to start a music career, and I've barely heard from you since. I was wondering if while I'm in town, you wanted to get a drink or something. My wife's with me, I'd love for her to meet you."

"That sounds… great."

"Great. Well, there's this place called the Life Café we went to the night we got in, I think you'd really like it. Have you heard of it?"

"Oh yeah. I love it."

"I figured you would. I assumed you couldn't have changed that much."

"Heh…. Yeah…."

"So, how about seven o'clock tomorrow?"

"Sounds great."

"Are you seeing anyone right now? Because if you are, bring her if you can. You know, keep Misty—that's my wife—occupied while we catch up. She hates being stuck in the middle of 'guy' conversation. And I'd love to meet her."

"No… I'm not…. I don't…." Angel faltered, looking up at Collins. "I'm not seeing anyone."

The look of hurt on Collins' face crushed her.

"I have to go, Jason, is there a number I can reach you at?" Jason gave Angel his cell phone number. "Great, I'll see you tomorrow."

She hung up and quickly faced Collins, whose eyes were wide.

"Who the hell," he said shakily, his voice cracking, "Is Jason?" There were actually tears in his eyes.

"Collins," Angel breathed. "Oh Collins, baby, it is not what it sounds like."

"Then what is it?"

"He's my best friend from high school. I haven't seen him in years. He's in town and wants to get together." She put her hands on his chest, sensing his doubt. "Collins. I would never do that to you. I love you. You are the only man in my life, I swear it."

He nodded. He believed her because he knew that she really would never do that.

"Why did he call you Andy?"

Angel bit the corner of her lip. "Because... that's my real name. Well, I mean, the name on my birth certificate." Collins looked confused. "Collins, it's not like my parents went and named their baby boy 'Angel.' I'm _Andrew_ Dumott Schunard. I changed my name to Angel three years ago, when I figured out that this," she indicated her skirt and nails, "is who I am. There is no more Andy. This is me."

Collins put his hands on Angel's hips. "I'm glad this is you," he said sweetly. Angel smiled, but it faded quickly.

"What?" Collins asked her.

"Nothing, it's just…." She leaned into her lover, putting her head on his chest and listening to the soothing sound of his heartbeat. "Jason was my very best friend, but there were certain things… that I didn't tell him, because he's a little…. Well…."

"A little well what?"

"…..Homophobic."

Collins tilted her chin so that she was looking at him. "Your best friend is homophobic?"

Angel nodded miserably. "But other than that, he's great. I really want to see him again because it's been so long, but…." She sighed. "Look at me, I can't show up like this. He'll flip out."

Collins held her tight. "Then he doesn't matter…."

"But that's just it, he does matter!" Angel insisted. "He sounds so excited to see me again, and I can't not go, because he'll be upset, but I can't go acting like Angel, or he'll still be upset!"

"Angel," Collins said soothingly, smoothing her hair. "Angel, you can't keep everyone happy all the time. It's not possible."

"But—"

"Shh." He put his finger to her lips. "I don't want to hear another word about it." He pulled her to the couch and lit the candles on the table with a lighter from his pocket. "Forget about him. Right now, all that matters is you and me." He sat down beside her and pulled her close, kissing the top of her head and her neck.

She was starting to forget about Jason already. "Mmm, I love you, Collins."

"I love you, my Angel."

What do ya think? Bad? Good? If you review, I'll hug you every night before bed!... unless you think that's creepy and then I wont Love and kisses!


	2. Antimakeover

Ok, so this update came really fast, but I was almost done with ch 2 when i posted ch1. I have 2 review already though, thanks you guys, i love ya!

Disclaimer:Don'town it... nope still don't... Huh-uh, it's still not mine...

Collins woke late the next morning, feeling that pleasant post-coital calm. He rolled over to put his arm around Angel, but his arm hit the mattress. He opened his eyes. She was not there.

She was over by the closet trying to secure a pair of khakis that belonged to Collins around her slim waist with a belt.

"Angel, what are you doing?" said Collins.

"Trying to find something to wear tonight. All your clothes are too big for me!" She threw the belt to the ground and let the pants slip off her legs, and when they did she threw those on the ground too. And stomped on them. She looked ready to cry.

Collins was intelligent enough to know what this was about.

"You're going to try to play the straight boy." His voice held disappointment.

Angel looked at him pleadingly, her eyes shiny. "Collins—"

"You're being ridiculous," he said sharply. "If you can't go being yourself, you shouldn't go at all."

"I have to," she insisted, digging in the closet.

"If you have to, at least wear your drumming clothes."

"Are you kidding?" she said, turning around. "They make me look homeless. That's the point, you know. The worse you look the more people feel sorry for you and the better your tips. I cannot go looking like a homeless man."

Collins shook his head, getting up and putting on some clothes (which he found scattered all over the bedroom floor). "I'm gonna go make some coffee. Maybe some caffeine will make you come to your senses." He kissed her on the cheek before leaving the bedroom.

Angel felt something that she had not felt in years. She felt like she had to hide herself for protection, fearing rejection.

She dug in the closet for her favorite, lime-green dress and put it on with a pair of white platform heels, trying to make herself feel better. She looked at her reflection in the cheap, full-length mirror that leaned against the wall.

She sighed. "You know you've hit rock bottom when even drag is a drag."

_Jason and Andy were the best of friends. They went through good things and bad things and just plain crazy things together for more than six years. But Andy had a secret that he could not tell anyone, especially not Jason. Andy liked boys. He didn't like Jason, not that way. But Jason would be freaked out. He would ditch Andy and leave him feeling more alone than he already did. _

Angel did not feel alone now. She had lots of friends and the most amazing boyfriend a queen could ask for. But still… just hearing someone call her by her old name sent horrible shots of her old insecurity flying through her mind.

She gave Collins a bashful smile when she came into the living room. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Are you done spazing out over this?" he asked, handing her an NYU mug of instant coffee.

She didn't answer. She sipped her coffee. It was barely hot, since it was made with tap water, but it had at least been filled with sugar and powdered cream to hide the cheap taste of instant coffee.

"Angel…."

"What!"

Collins put his hands up in defense. "There's no need to snap at me. I'm just trying to make you see how crazy you're acting."

"You would act crazy too, in my situation."

"Angel—"

"Do you think Mark's clothes would fit me? I bet we're the same size."

"God, don't you have something non-drag you can wear if it matters so goddamned much?" Collins said, rolling his eyes.

"I do, but I don't. It all makes me look gay."

"You ARE gay!"

"_Collins, you are not helping!_"

She suddenly began to cough, politely covering her mouth even in her anger and stress. She couldn't stop. She leaned against a wall for support, still coughing. Collins' anger dissipated. He rushed to her side holding her up. "Angel, are you alright?"

"I'm… fine," she said when she caught her breath. She cleared her throat, composing herself.

"We'll go over to Mark's," he said, an apology lacing his words. "If it will make you happy, we can go see if Mark has something for you."

"Thank you, Collins," Angel whispered. "We'll go in a bit, I have to sit down for a minute."

Collins nodded. "Ok, baby. Take off those shoes, I'll get you some water. You sure you're ok?"

"Yes. Thank you, baby."

As they climbed the stairs to Mark's loft apartment, Angel and Collins were silent except from an occasional cough from Angel. She looked much better than she had back at the apartment, but Collins was still a little worried.

"Hey!" Mark, his face partially covered by his camera, greeted them when he opened the door. When they came inside, he set it on a tripod in the corner. Angel did some poses in front of it, shortly joined by Collins. They continued with this until they fell into each other, giggling. They could never stay angry at each other for long.

"Damn," Mark said with a grin. "It's been so quiet around here lately, what with Roger living with Mimi."

"I wish we could stay long, Marky," Angel said with a smile, tousling his already messy hair. "But Bond and Pussy are on another mission."

"What sort of mission?"

"I need to borrow some clothes that will help me pass as a straight boy."

Mark was not sure whether laughter would be appropriate or not here. Angel seemed to be serious. He tried to hold it in. "Why?"

Angel explained her "desperately dire" situation, sounding as much drama queen as drag queen.

Mark narrowed his eyes beneath his glasses, not entirely comfortable with what he was hearing. "But, Angel…" he began. "Why do you care what he thinks?"

"That's what I said!" Collins said exasperatedly, throwing his hands into the air.

Angel said, "It's complicated! I don't know why I expected you men to understand!"

_Dusk was just falling over Andy's suburban neighborhood. He was home alone, but still he had locked the bathroom door. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, not quite knowing why he had done it. He rubbed his lips, now shiny with deep red lip color and gloss, together, examined the sparkles applied above his eyes. He was unsure now of why he had done this—stolen his older sister's makeup then locked himself in the upstairs bathroom and put it on. It had been an impulsive idea, and he felt guilty now, as though he had just done something terribly disgusting. Quickly he washed it off. _

_The next day, shame caused Andy to avoid his best friend in the high school halls. Most of it had come off, but every time he looked in the mirror, he spotted a before unseen speck of glitter somewhere on his face. He was just positive that the entire world could see and knew what he had done._

Mark, though his better judgment told him that this was all very wrong, led Angel to the closet where he kept his few clothes.

Angel was sifting through them, muttering under her breath and continuously clearing her throat, when the door burst open and Maureen came storming in, looking ready to kill whatever got in her way.

"Maureen?" Mark said stupidly.

He was answered with a very long, loud stream of profanity, during the course of which Maureen tore off her leather jacket, threw it on the ground and jumped on it violently.

Angel rushed over to her and put her hands on Maureen's shoulders, shushing and comforting. "Maureen, honey, it's ok. Calm down. Shh…."

Slowly, Maureen's screaming waned, and she stood panting, Angel's hands on her shoulders. Then Maureen began to cry. Angel held her tight until she was through.

"That bitch!" she sobbed into Angel's shoulder. "She's terrible, Angel, I hate her!"

"No you don't," Angel said, stroking her blonde hair. "You know perfectly well that you don't mean that."

"Fine, then _she_ hates _me!_"

"She loves you more than you know."

Maureen sniffed and Angel wiped her tear-stained cheeks. Suddenly Angel began to feel dizzy. But she didn't want to worry Collins. So she led Maureen to the horribly beat-up couch in an effort to mask her own need to sit down.

"Honey," Angel said, "you and Joanne need to show a little more affection. I think you both forget how much you love each other."

"What are you guys doing here?" Maureen asked, changing the subject quite obviously. "I expected to come here and scream at Mark a little to make myself feel better, not to have to look at the most in-love couple in New York while my own fucking love life is hell."

She meant this in the best possible way of course.

Collins scoffed. "We're here to give Angel an anti-makeover."

"Collins, please!" Angel said, trying not to sound to sharp.

Maureen cocked an eyebrow. "Anti-makeover?"

Collins leaned his elbows on the back of the couch, speaking like someone telling a children's story. "Angel doesn't want to be pretty. Angel wants to be a boy. Angel doesn't think she—oh sorry—_he_ is good enough the way _he_ is."

Angel crossed her arms across her chest. She did not think that Collins was _trying _to hurt her. He wouldn't do that on purpose. But that comment did hurt, because it showed that there were certain things that her lover just couldn't understand.

_Every queen was once a confused teenage boy_, she thought. _Don't you remember how it was back then, Collins? How would you like to be reminded of your torturous years spent in the closet? Or was it always so easy for you that nothing can bring those insecurities back?_

She went back over to Mark's clothes in dignified silence. Maybe it was wrong. But this rendezvous was something that she just wanted to get over with as quickly and painlessly as possible so that maybe she could shut out that part of her life for good.

Pretty please with sparkles on top review!


	3. Maureen Plays Dressup

Yay, updateness! I'm having a lot of fun with this story :) Anyway, thanks sooo much to my lovely reviewers! I love you guys! And if you're just reading and not reviewing, i love you too, don't worry (not that I'm saying that you shouldn't review --shakes finger at non-reviewers--)

Disclaimer: When you're living in America at the end of the Millenium, you're what you own... unfortunately I don't own Rent...

Collins' pronouncement of Angel not wanting to be pretty and wanting to dress like a boy seemed to stun Maureen into an uncharacteristic silence.

The silence lasted approximately 2.4 seconds.

"Angel, baby, what's going on?" she exclaimed, following Angel over to the closet.

"He is exaggerating," Angel said coldly.

Maureen glanced at Mark's clothes, all hanging neatly on mismatched hangers. "Are you trying to dress like a guy in general or a straight guy?"

"… A straight guy."

"Then might I suggest not using Mark's wardrobe?" She looked over at the cameraman in question. "He dresses like a queer."

"What!" Mark's face turned red.

"It's true and you know it," Maureen said, looking him up and down. "Come on. The tight pants. The scarf in the middle of April. The artsy glasses."

"Well," Angel said, pulling out the loosest-looking pair of jeans she could find, "it's better than a black miniskirt and stilettos."

The jeans were plain and old and something that she would never wear, even if she wasn't doing the drag thing. She did in fact own some clothes to wear if she were to ever be in a situation where someone would be super-uncomfortable if she did show up in drag. But those clothes were gayer than Mark's, because she never wanted to try to be something she wasn't.

Until now.

Angel grabbed a shirt too, a black button-down. She had one a lot like it, only it was make of fake silk and was tighter. She beckoned for Maureen to follow her into Mark's bedroom.

"Fuck! This is gonna be so much fun!" Maureen exclaimed, leaning against the door after she closed it and throwing her head back in glee. "It'll be perfect. Here, I'll unzip your dress…."

_The first time Andy kissed a boy was at summer camp when he was sixteen years old. _

_He had not wanted to go to camp, feeling like he was too old for it now. Jason would not be going this year. He had a job at the pizza place down the street from the school. But Andy's parents made him go, and he knew why—he had heard them talking about it. His dad thought he was too effeminate, and that two weeks in the woods would magically make that go away. _

_It didn't. There was this guy, Alex, in Andy's cabin that he was simply crazy for. He was cute and nice and funny and made Andy feel really great. The last night before they all went home, Alex said that he had something he wanted to show Andy at the back of the cabin. What Andy had been expecting was a prank of some sort. What he got was his first kiss. _

_He never saw Alex again after that. But the memory of the kiss and how it had opened up new possibilities and optimism for him remained._

In Mark's clothes, Angel felt very… loose. It was weird, and she didn't like it, because it made her feel more like her insecure high school self, which was not going to help her situation with Collins, who already thought she was being unreasonable. Maureen had also removed Angel's wig and makeup and stood with her arms folded, admiring her handiwork.

"Once we teach you how to hold yourself like a man, you will be indistinguishable from any guy out there. You look at least as hetero as Mark does."

Angel realized that she was grimacing slightly and immediately tried to relax her face. "Is there a mirror?" she asked, smoothing the wrinkles in the shirt. "I'll have to iron this…."

"Don't you dare!" Maureen said, taking her upper arm (the fabric of the shirt bunched unfamiliarly around her skin) and leading her to the door. "Straight guys definitely don't iron." She paused. "Actually, I don't think anyone really irons. Except Joanne." She opened the door. "But that's just because she has a stick up her ass.

"Boys!" Maureen shouted to Mark and Collins who had been talking in low voices for the past ten minutes. "Cover your eyes, I have to bring Angel into the bathroom!" She peeped her head out first to make sure that neither one was looking—they were both covering their eyes, but disdainfully—and then scurried to the itsy-bitsy bathroom, leading Angel by the hand.

Maureen covered Angel's eyes and then closed the door. "Ok," she said, as if about to reveal an amazing prize to the winner of a game show. "Are you ready?" Angel nodded. Maureen removed her hands from Angel's face and turned her to look into the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door.

Angel was not sure what to think of this appearance. She had been assuming that the change would be drastic, but in fact she looked hardly different than she did when she played on the street. Just a little more clean-cut. Still, it was strange since she did not look in the mirror before she went to Avenue A to set up her drums, because it just didn't matter.

"Andy," she whispered to her reflection, standing there looking so short without heels, and so drab in black and blue-jean. She knew she looked anything but masculine, but perhaps it was just that she did not feel masculine and therefore could not perceive herself as such. Maybe if she wore boxers or something….

No way—it would be a cold day in doggy hell when Angel Dumott Schunard stooped to wearing _boxers_.

"What do you think, Maureen?" Angel asked, checking herself out from different angles.

"I think you look damn sexy," she replied. "The female population is really missing out."

Angel turned to her. "Wait, but you like—"

"I like what I like," Maureen replied, taking Angel's shoulders and turning her back to the mirror. Maureen was taller than her in her two-inch platforms. "And I like what I see."

Maureen told Angel to stay put, then ran out into the living room, beaming at Collins and Mark. Mark raised his eyebrows at her. Collins did not even react, just looked at her. She was definitely the only one who thought this whole ordeal to be fun, and did not even realize that no one (not even Angel) shared her amusement.

"Are you ready for this?" she said, her excitement threatening to bubble over.

The men did not answer. Maureen did not seem to notice. She cleared her throat.

"Presenting, for the first time in public since 1995, A—" She paused, then whispered to Collins, "What was his real name again?" Collins did not answer. "Andy, right? Yeah.

"Presenting! Andy! Dumott! Schunard!" Nothing happened. You could practically hear crickets chirp. "Eh-hem! I said presenting-Andy-Dumott-Schunard!"

Reluctantly, Angel stepped out of the bathroom and into the living room, his eyes focused on the floor.

_Andy did not ever look up when he walked the school hallways. His head was always bent down. The first reason was that he had no confidence. The second was that if he met eyes with a stranger, he feared they would see right through him and into his thoughts of boys and lipstick and shopping, and would know what he was and his life would come to an end. _

Mark said "Whoa!" very quietly to himself. Collins did not say a word. Angel looked up at him and into his eyes, pleading with him to understand why she had to do this.

He shook his head, looking disappointed in her.

And if there was one thing that Angel just could not take, it was someone being disappointed in her. Especially Collins.

"You should not be doing this," he said.

"Collins!"  
"No, Angel. This is wrong, you know that this is totally wrong."

Her face flushed. "There is nothing wrong with it! In case you haven't noticed by now, I'm not actually a woman!" She was shouting now.

"You are taking this too far."

"OH THAT'S NICE! AN ANARCHIST TELLING ME I'M TAKING IT TOO FAR!"

Dead silence.

Mark and Maureen looked between the two of them, speechless.

Collins stared disbelievingly at her.

Angel clapped her hand to her mouth. She could not believe she had just said that.

"Collins," she said weakly, "I'm sorry. I…. I didn't mean…."

Collins' expression was disgusted and hurt. "I'm goin' home." He said quietly, grabbing his coat off the back of the couch. "Let me know when the Angel I fell in love with comes back."

"Collins!"

But he was already halfway out the door. Angel thought he would slam it. She wished he would have slammed it. But instead he just closed it gently with a quiet click.

So, I shall update as soon as I can!


	4. Selfdestructive

(squeals) Thanks so much to all my reviewers, seriously, you ugys have made me feel great. Extra thanks to lulu, because honestly, I had a total block on this story until your totally sweet review, which I think might be the most complimentary I've ever gotten. So anyhow, enough of my ramblings. Here's the story!

Disclaimer: Yeah, definately still not mine

Angel stood in the middle of Mark's living room with tears in her eyes, wanting more than anything to scream, 'Fuck you, Collins, fuck you!' But she was far too lady-like to use such an expression, so she settled for collapsing on the couch and burying her head in her arms.

"Aw, honey," Maureen said with a little pouty face, sitting next to Angel and putting her arms around her. Angel, though she did not want to upset her by saying so, wanted Maureen off. She didn't want to talk to her right now.

Mark patted her awkwardly on the head. "You gonna be ok?" he asked.

Angel didn't put her head up and her voice was muffled when she spoke. "We don't fight," she mumbled, feeling terrible. How could she have said anything so awful? And to her Collins of all people?

"Oh, you silly bitch, don't worry about it!" Maureen declared, giving her a slightly-too-rough slap on the shoulder. "All couples fight! Hell, look at me and Joanne! We fight all the time."

…How comforting.

"Anyway." Angel felt Maureen stand up beside her. "You guys wanna see my new act? I need someone's input, and Joanne is being a bitch about it, surprise, surprise. She thinks the wet t-shirt part is too much, but I mean seriously! It's part of my, like, message!"

"Wet t-shirt?" Mark was obviously trying not to sound excited.

"Yeah, I have a pitcher of water and—"

"You know, I really have to get going," Angel said suddenly. As horribly tempting as a lesbian in a wet t-shirt was to this transvestite, she felt that she would rather opt out of this particular display. "I'm really sorry, Maureen sweetie, but I have to patch things up with Collins." She got up and kissed Maureen on each cheek. "You let me know when you're performing next, ok?" She said goodbye and thanks to Mark, and left the apartment.

She really _had_ originally intended to go apologize to Collins, but as soon as she reached the sidewalk, it appeared that her feet had different plans.

She also realized that she had left her clothes in Mark's bedroom and was wearing four-inch chunky heels with men's clothing. She just rolled her eyes at herself and kept walking. If anyone noticed her strange ensemble, she did not know nor care.

_Andy almost told Jason his secret once. They were at the park, kicking a soccer ball around in the grass. The other boys they had been playing with had left, but Andy hated going home and Jason going home even more, so they remained. Darkness was falling, the sky turning from bright blue to hazy yellow-blue. Having run around until their bodies were exhausted, the two of them collapsed onto a picnic bench. They stayed that way for a few minutes, catching their breath. Jason lay on his back on the table and Andy sprawled on the bench. _

_They talked a little about nothing in particular: soccer, cars, the ants that kept trying to climb and crawl all over Jason. Then Jason said "Can I tell you something?"_

_Andy's ears perked up. A vague thought crossed his mind. A secret? Jason has a secret? Could it possibly…. Could it be the same as mine?_

_"You can't tell anyone," Jason continued, turning onto his side to look at Andy. "I mean no one." _

_Andy shook his head. No, no of course not. He tried to stay nonchalant, but his eyes were hungry. _I'm gay_. Say those two words, Jason, please. _I'm gay_. Not too hard, right?_

_"I have obsessive compulsive disorder. I take medication for it." _

_Andy felt like he had been slapped. This was not what he was expecting… at all…. "Oh…," he said. He didn't know how to react to this. Obsessive compulsive disorder? It felt a little… anticlimactic._

_But still. Jason had shared his secret. Andy should too. _

_And he probably would have if two guys hadn't walked by just then. They were holding hands. _

_"Fags," Jason muttered under his breath. _

Angel wandered the streets for at least a half an hour. It was cold and sunny, a devious combination, in which you feel like you should be warm, but you are, in reality, freezing your cute little ass off.

But suddenly, right outside an obscure little coffee shop, the cold was gone. It was replaced by a wave of heat, which caused a tickle of perspiration to rise on Angel's forehead. Things started spinning. "Oh god," she said, collapsing against the brick wall, coughing.

People passed and no one spared more than the most fleeting of glances, for which Angel was actually grateful. Then someone came out of the coffee shop, and the someone put a hand on her shoulder, and the someone spoke in a Spanish accent when she said "Sir? Are you ok?"

As soon as Angel managed to take an adequate breath, she choked out an astonished, "Mimi?"

Mimi just stared at her, looking a little surprised. "How do you know my name?"

"It's me." Angel said. Mimi's eyebrows were still knitted together. Angel looked down at her heels and back at Mimi.

Mimi looked at the shoes and then back at her face. Angel could see the bewilderment in her eyes, and then, suddenly, the shocked recognition.

"_Angel!_"

"The one and only." Angel forced a grin, then cleared her throat.

"Angel, honey, are you ok?" Mimi put an arm around her shoulders. Angel nodded. She was… for now.

"I'll be fine," she said as Mimi led her back into the obscure café. Once inside, Mimi ordered Angel an ice water in the biggest cup they had with two straws. They sat down at a small table in the sun by the window.

The water felt amazing on Angel's throat. She sipped it greedily.

"So, girl, if you don't mind me asking," Mimi asked after giving Angel time to rehydrate herself, "what's with the clothes? You look like you just stepped out of Straight Eye for the Hopelessly Queer Guy."

Angel sighed. "It's a long story."

"I have a long time." She looked Angel in the eyes and smiled.

The next thing Angel knew, she was spilling her guts to Mimi, barely pausing for breath. She told her about the call from Jason, all her fears about what he would think about her new lifestyle, and her desperate impulse to hide it all from him. She told Mimi about how Maureen had dressed her up in Mark's clothes. And her fight with Collins. Told her how she had been feeling sick lately. How confused and scared she was about everything. By the time she was finished, her lip was quivering and she felt about to cry.

"Oh, Angel, honey!" Mimi exclaimed, squeezing her hand. "Oh, baby…."

"And there's no way I can pull it off, Mimi," Angel concluded, her voice shaking. "I've made Collins hate me over something I can't even do! Jason is never going to buy my act."

"First of all, Collins does not hate you," Mimi said, very sure of what she was saying. "He could never hate you. Angel do you have any idea how much he loves you? …He just…."

"He just what?" Angel took a sullen sip of water.

"He just knows that what you're doing… this whole Jason thing is…."

"Ridiculous?" Angel snapped. "Stupid, unreasonable, _too far?_"

"_Self-destructive_."

Angel let the word hit her mind and be absorbed. "How is it self-destructive?" Angel knew self-destructive. She knew it because it was part of the darkness that was her past.

_During the course of high school, Andy Schunard tried to kill himself three times._

Angel was never self-destructive. That part of her that wanted to be was gone. She loved life now, every bit of it, and enjoyed it in any way she could. Partially because she knew that soon, probably in less than a year based on how she felt now (not that she would ever share her prediction with anyone), precious life would be taken away from her.

"Look at you," Mimi said softly. "I have never seen you act this way. You're scared and nervous, and just not _Angel_. You're hurting yourself whether you know it or not."

Angel didn't say anything. Just drank her water silently.

"Don't pout at me!" Mimi laughed. "I'm not lecturing. Simply observing. And you know what else I observe?"

"What?"

"That for reasons I don't completely understand, this means something to you." Angel raised her eyes to meet Mimi's. "And I'll help you."

Angel bit her lip, some form of happiness invading the sense of impending doom that had been swelling in her chest all day.

"You… you will?" She hardly dared believe it.

"Of course I will!" Mimi grabbed her hand again and held it firmly. "You're like my sister, Angel. How could I refuse?"

Angel felt the prickle of tears again, and this time they were not scared or hurt tears. They were grateful tears. "I love you, Mimi," she said.

"I love you too, honey." She smiled big enough that her cute little dimples were visible.

"Now," Mimi continued. "You take your water, we're going back to my place to find you some of Roger's clothes. If you're going to convince this Jason guy you're a real boy, you gotta dress like one. No offense to Mark, but he dresses like a fag."

Angel could not help but laugh.

Pretty please review, my dahlings!


	5. Sisters

Sorry it took a while for the new chapter, I've been busy doing props crew for Rocky Horror (awsome show, one of my favorites now) AND Snow White (a litte... less awsome haha). Thanks mucho again to my beloved reviewers! So anyway, I'll shut up now and let ya'll read!

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Roger was at his guitar on the couch when Mimi and Angel opened the door.

"Hey, Mimi," he said, not looking up. He was testing out chords, which after a few moments, he began subconsciously putting together to sound suspiciously like Musetta's Waltz. Mimi smiled affectionately. He probably didn't even realize he was doing it.

"Rog, we have company," Mimi told him, grinning at Angel and squeezing her hand.

Roger looked up at them blankly. His eyebrows came together and he said, "Who the fuck are you?"

Angel smiled brightly and struck a pose with her hip thrust to the side and her hands in the air. Roger didn't get it. Now he was just giving Angel an even weirder look. She rolled her eyes fondly at Mimi, who went up behind Roger and smacked him upside the head.

"What are you, stupid or something? It's Angel!"

He looked between the two of them, then his face cracked into a smile. "Hey, Angel," he said before repositioning his fingers on the strings and beginning to experiment some more with chords and melodies.

After sifting through Roger's clothes, they found that Angel was too small to fit them.

"Honey, you are way too skinny," Mimi commented, pinching Angel's waist gently, showing the lack of weight. Angel just shrugged. She tried to think of a way to change the subject. She did not want to discuss how much weight she had lost over the last month, because she knew that it was more than was normal. She didn't want to worry anybody, though; Mimi was looking a little on the thin side as well. She had her own health to worry about, and Angel did not think that it was necessary to burden her.

But the concern in Mimi's eyes showed that she was not stupid—she knew what was happening. "Angel—"

"Mimi, don't."

"Angel, are you feeling okay?"

It sounded like something Paul from Life Support would say. But not how he would say it. When Mimi said it, her voice sounded scared and not at all reassuring.

"Okay enough," she whispered back.

"Angel, if you're sick—"

"I'm not that sick yet," Angel cut her off. "I have some time. I can feel it."

Mimi crossed her arms tightly over her chest as if she was cold. She walked back over to the closet to busy herself hanging Roger's jeans and shirts back up. But Angel saw how she was blinking tears from her eyes.

"Mimi—"

"I think I understand why Collins is so mad at you," she muttered.

"_What!_"

"You should not be spending what little time you have left worrying about some stupid childhood friend!" Her voice shook madly.

"Mimi, it's just one day—"

"Well it could be your last, you know!"  
A moment of dark silence passed between them.

"Please don't say that," Angel whispered. "It scares me."

"Oh, Angel," Mimi said helplessly, sitting down on the unmade bed. "You know I don't…. You're not gonna die yet, but…. I mean…."

"Look, Mimi," she said gently, sitting down beside her. "Jason is going to be in town for a week. I'm seeing him just tonight. And I have to do this whole charade because I will probably never see him again, and I have to close off that part of my life." She smoothed a lock of Mimi's hair behind her ear. "Do you get where I'm coming from?"

"Not really," Mimi replied bluntly, wiping. "But I got your back, girl."

"And you don't know how much that means to me."

A silence passed between them. The sort that demands a change in the direction of conversation. Mimi did the honors. She laughed a little and said, "How the hell are we gonna pass you off as straight?"

"I have no idea," Angel said, jumping back into her previous panic about this particular dilemma. "It's been so long since I've faked it. I don't think I even remember how."

"Not by wearing high heels, that's for sure." Mimi nodded toward where Angel had left her shoes by the bedroom door. Angel laughed, then stopped abruptly when she realized that they were all she had without going back to the apartment and facing Collins. "Don't sweat it. You'll just have to wear Roger's, even if they don't fit."

"It won't make any difference." Angel felt on the verge of a sudden meltdown. What good would the right shoes do? It was going to take a hell of a lot more to convince Jason. It was all internal. How much could she do to change that? "Oh my God, what was I thinking? I can't pull this off! Oh damn it, I hate this! Why do I have to be such a… such a goddamned freak!"

Mimi's jaw dropped. She could not believe what she had just heard. "Angel!" she exclaimed incredulously, putting her arms around her. "Don't you ever say anything like that again!" No so-called friend was worth this. Ever. Mimi would go along with what Angel wanted for now, but as soon as Angel had made her impression on Jason, Mimi would kick his ass for doing this to her best friend.

"I'm coming with you tonight," Mimi said decidedly. "I'll go as your girlfriend or something. I don't care. You're gonna need someone there, or you'll just fall right apart."

"I told him I wasn't seeing anybody," Angel told her miserably.

"We'll make up a story. Pretend we're a fight-y couple like Joanne and Maureen that break up all the time. It'll be fine."

Angel put her head on Mimi's shoulder and nodded, sighing. She was far too stressed to argue, and anyway, Mimi might be just the touch she needed to pull it off.

_Andy had a girlfriend once. Eleventh grade. She was a quiet girl, very sweet and very shy. Jason set them up. Andy really did like her, as a friend that is. They moved very slow physically, because she was too embarrassed to make a move and goodness knows that the last thing Andy was interested in was getting action with her. Then one day, after they had been dating a month or two and had only ever held hands, the girl grabbed him around the waist and kissed him hard on the mouth. It sort of freaked Andy out and he jumped back. _

_"You really don't like me, do you?" the girl asked sadly. _

_Andy said that it wasn't her. She was great. He liked her, just…. _

_"I didn't think so. I never thought so. I don't know why I even stayed with you this long when I knew…. Never mind."_

_"What did you know?" _

_"Well, I mean…." She blushed. "From the beginning I guess it was kind of obvious that you're not… into girls. Are you? It's not a big deal, and I promise not to tell anyone, okay?" _

_He nodded. He didn't tell her that it was more than not liking girls. It was more than liking boys. Whatever was wrong with him was horribly wrong. Because even gay guys didn't steal their sister's clothes, put together outfits that they wished they could wear, and look at them late at night and wish that they had the courage just to slip that skirt on for a millisecond. Even gay guys didn't feel like something was horribly out of sync between their body and mind. Didn't feel like God had made a mistake somewhere. _

_Didn't feel like some weird freak of nature. _

"Roger, why are you such an ass-hole!"

Angel felt really uncomfortable with the screaming in the other room. Mimi had gone to check on Roger and tell him their plan, and for some reason he was jealous.

"Jealous that I am going on a fake date with a gay transvestite! That's amazing, Roger, a new level of insanity even for you!" Mimi had shouted. "I'm going. You can't stop me…. Let go of my FUCKING ARM! I'm going!"

She thrust her head into the bedroom. "Angel, grab your purse… er… or not. We're going. We'll be a little early but it's better than hanging out with Mr. I'm-Gonna-Be-a-Bastard!"

"Fine!" Roger shouted as they made their way to the door. "See if I care."

Mimi stormed off down the hall. Angel looked at Roger.

"I'm really sorry about all this, Rog," she said quickly, blowing him a kiss before trotting off after Mimi.

"He is being REDICULOUS!" Mimi raged as the descended the stairs.

Angel agreed. Roger was acting crazy, but… it was Roger. He always got ticked at the tiniest things. Things that really didn't matter at all. But it was his way of dealing with his disease. Maybe it wasn't the best way, but Angel knew never to take anything he said or did personally when he got like this.

But Angel had more pressing matters on her mind than Roger's misplaced temper. As soon as she and Mimi stepped outside into the sunlight, Mimi started walking at a crazy speed into the crowd. Angel hurried after her, and Mimi grabbed her hand so that she wouldn't fall behind. Mimi was really upset. Angel sighed. She could worry about Jason once they got to the Life Café. Right now, she needed to talk Mimi out of breaking up with Roger out of this.

Angel already had too much guilt on her conscious about Collins without having to be responsible for another Mimi/Roger blowout as well.

---

Maria gets a prize for guessing that Mimi would go with Angel as girlfriend! Let's see... u get... um... a hug! Yay! Pretty please review, my dahlings!


	6. Jason

Hi everybody! Thanks so much to everybody who's been reading and reviewing, you guys rock my sox (especially lulu; honey do you have any idea how much your reviews make me smile?)

Disclaimer: I should tell you... I don't own Rent :(

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Mimi and Angel stepped into the Life Café more than a half an hour early. It had taken some time, but Angel had finally managed to get Mimi to chill out about the Roger episode.

"It's not so much that he would accuse me of cheating," Mimi had said. "It's that he'd actually think that _you_ would do something like that."

"What? Betray him or sleep with a girl?"

Mimi laughed. "Both."

They snagged a table for four by a wall, two seats in a booth and two chairs. Angel seated herself in a chair. She tried to smooth her skirt beneath her out of habit.

The waiter appeared after a moment. The Café was rather crowded and he looked tired, but still managed his usual misty eyes for Mimi.

"What can I get for you, Miss?" he said breathlessly, staring hard at Mimi (and not at her face).

"We're waiting for people. Just a water for now. With lemon."

"Coming right up…." He started to leave, but Mimi grabbed the back of his apron.

"Hey. You didn't take my boyfriend's order."

"Sorry, Sir, didn't see you there…."

"Oh. Were my _breasts_ in the way?" Mimi said with attitude. "Quite sorry. Here. Let me move those for you." She clamped her hands on her chest and smushed it to be as small as possible, glaring furiously at the waiter.

He blushed as red as Angel's favorite mini-skirt.

"I'll have the same as her," Angel said in her best 'manly' voice, trying to glare and be protective of Mimi like a good boyfriend should. The waiter left in a bit of a hurry.

Angel thought it was ironic really. For a stripper, Mimi sure as hell didn't put up with any crap from guys. Mimi seemed to read this on her face and just shrugged. "If he wants to look, he can come to the fucking Cat Scratch."

It was once the drinks arrived that Angel spotted an emergency.

"AHH!" she screamed just as she put her hand to the cold, frosty glass.

"What's wrong?"

"MY NAILS!"

Sure enough, Angel had forgotten to remove her sparkling pink acrylics. She put one well-manicured hand to her mouth and stared in shock at the other.

Mimi's eyes widened and her lips curved upward.

"It's not funny," Angel said.

"You have to admit it's a little bit funny."

It would have been. If it had been someone else!

"Mimi, do you have any polish remover?" Mimi started digging through her purse.

"No…. Nail file?" She held the emery board up, then grabbed one of Angel's hands. "Here, we can at least make it less noticeable. Or… hey, why don't we try to pry the fake ones off?"

"Do you have any idea how bad that is for your real nails!"

"Do you have any idea how odd Jason will find the fake ones?"

"… You win."

Between Mimi's own hard nails and the emery board, she managed to pry off all but the pinky nails. Those she filed down until they were short and then filed away at the color to make it duller.

"It's the best we can do. You shouldn't be sticking your pinky out anyway, Miss Masculinity."

Angel checked her watch (and then put it in Mimi's purse because it was too feminine). It was almost time. Jason would be there soon.

"Okay, Mimi?" she said. "Start calling me Andy now, okay? Just… so I can get used to it a little before he gets here."

"Calm down… Andy. You'll be fine. I promise." Mimi kissed her on the cheek and gave her an encouraging smile.

The door to the Café opened. Angel squeezed her eyes shut. "I can't look. Oh God, is it him?"

Now, Mimi had no idea what Jason and his fiancé would look like, but she did know that the people coming into the Life were not them. "No," she said quickly, trying to think of a way to distract Angel's attention from the group filing in. The last thing she needed was to see she had an audience.

Mark, Maureen, Collins.

They sat down at a booth in the back. They kept shooting glances over at Mimi and Angel's table. Mimi looked daggers at them, shook her head slightly from side to side. What did they think they were doing here? Mimi flicked them off discreetly so they knew that she was pissed that they would pull something like this. Maureen just stuck her tongue out at her, set a blue duffle bag on the floor, and latched herself onto Mark's arm. Mark gave an apologetic little shrug as if trying to say, "It wasn't my idea!" And Collins…. Mimi couldn't read his expression or body language.

What was clear though, was that the scheme was Maureen's idea, Mark was unable to ever say no to Maureen, and Collins was either here to support Angel, or to get back at her.

The door opened again and Angel took a deep breath. "You can do this," she whispered to herself.

No more Angel.

She was no longer Angel.

She was Andy now. Andy again.

He was Andy.

Andy stood up and smiled in spite of himself. As much as he had been dreading this meeting, it was good to see his old friend.

Jason was beaming with his perfect teeth. He was a fairly tall white guy, with dark hair and eyes. Freckles dusted his face. He had always been very good-looking, but Andy had never thought of him as more than a friend.

"Andy!" he said happily, pulling him into one of those slap-on-the-back straight guy hugs that Andy had never been much good at. "How've you been?"

"Great! And yourself?"

"Excellent." He put his hand on the waist of the woman next to him. She was just the sort that Andy had always known that Jason would end up with; she was pretty, blonde, and had extremely intelligent eyes. "This is my fiancé—"

"Misty," she interjected, extending her hand. She had a very firm handshake. Andy couldn't help getting the impression that she was a lawyer. She almost reminded him of a blonde Joanne.

"Nice to meet you. Um, this is my… girlfriend… Mimi Marquez."

"I thought you said you weren't seeing anyone?" Jason commented after introductions.

"Oh, you know how it is," Mimi laughed, patting Andy's arm. "One day you're screaming your heads off at each other, the next you're madly in love."

Jason nodded, smiling. It was clear that he didn't "know how it was."

They all sat down, and Jason and Misty took a moment to look at the menu. As is normal in these situations, conversation started slow. The usual "How's life?" questions. The waiter came back to take their orders (carefully avoiding Mimi's eyes and chest), and after they did, the true conversations began.

"So, Andy," Jason began, "ever manage to break into the music business?"

"Music?" Misty said interestedly.

"Andy was always tinkering on one instrument or another. Drums especially, right?"

"Yeah," Andy replied. "I'm still a drummer."

"That's really great." Jason was beaming. "I always knew you'd do well once you got out of the suburbs."

Andy neglected to mention that he was a drummer on the _street_.

And when asked her occupation, Mimi said, quite unabashedly, "I dance." But Jason and Corey did not press further. Never asked what sort of dancer. They thought it was just wonderful.

"They're so artistic, Jason, it makes me feel so dull!" Misty laughed. Both of them worked for the same advertising firm. Unexciting work, aside from the travel.

The food arrived after some more talk.

Some more lies.

Lies lies lies.

Andy stared at his food. He wasn't hungry, but he picked up a French fry, very careful not to display his sparkly pinky. Chatter continued all around him. Misty and Mimi were gossiping animatedly, getting along surprisingly well, considering Mimi didn't usually take to those office types. Jason was talking about something. Andy wasn't sure what anymore. He just nodded and gave a little "yeah" or "mm-hmm" now and then.

The thing that really got to Andy was that Jason was actually excited to see him. It was apparent in his body language, voice inflection, and most of all in his eyes. They had been best friends for years, and from Jason's perspective, so little had changed. Andy knew better. Andy was not the same person he was then. It made him feel guilty that Jason should be so happy to see someone who didn't exist. It was like Andy was simply a ghost of a man long gone, trying to pass off as the real thing. It was a horrible sham. Unfair to everyone.

But what could he do? He had always lied to Jason. Even in high school, he had lied to Jason. He never talked about his dreams and nightmares, crushes, confusion. He couldn't start now.

Andy talked some more, answering questions. More lies. More deceit. He tried to get Jason to talk about himself more, just like old times. Andy always hated to talk about himself.

"So, what do you guys think of the Life Café?" Andy asked with a forced smile.

"The atmosphere is scintillating," Misty said, looking around. "Everyone seems so interesting and… I can't put my finger on the world I'm looking for—"

"Bohemian?" Mimi offered, a little dryly.

"That's it!"

"You two come here a lot?" Jason wondered.

"All the time," Andy said, glad to not have to lie about this too. "With our friends."

With Collins too.

Andy's lover's face swam before his eyes. The look on his face when he had made that anarchist comment…. And now here he was, pretending to be in love with someone else. Sure there was no way that he and Mimi were a realistic couple, but suddenly he realized something. It was one thing that Andy used to be ashamed of himself. It was one thing that he still felt that way around Jason.

But it was completely another to be ashamed of Collins.

Ever since he'd met Collins, he had never wanted to leave anyone with a question as to whether or not they were together. He wanted the whole world to know how much he and that crazy anarchist loved each other.

And now he was betraying Collins to play best friend with Jason.

How could he be so selfish? In the beginning, Andy had tricked himself into believing that he was doing this for Jason, but the fact remained that he just wasn't. It was for no one but himself. It was to avoid confrontation and rejection and it was hurting everybody.

Tears welled up in his eyes.

"Andy?" Jason said, concerned. "What's wrong?"

Andy pushed his chair back and stood up so fast that it fell backwards with a clatter. "I'm not feeling well," he said shakily. "I'll be right back."

He ran to the back of the restaurant and started for the ladies' room, but then got confused. He put his hands to his mouth and tried to quell his tears….

He felt a hand on his shoulder. Mimi.

"Angel, are you okay?" she asked. Andy shook his head. Mimi took his hand and opened the ladies' room door.

Just as she pushed Andy inside, someone appeared next to her. It was Maureen, holding out the blue duffle bag to her. "I swiped this when we went to get Collins," she said. "I thought Angel might want it." Maureen went quietly back to the boys.

Mimi was too worried about Andy to be confused. When she went into the bathroom, he was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, crying. A girl came out of a stall and kept shooting him weird glances as she washed her hands. "He's gay. Piss off," Mimi snapped. The girl scampered.

"Angel, sweetheart," Mimi cooed, kneeling beside him and putting her arms around him tightly. She felt his thin body shake with sobs.

"How could I have been so stupid?" he said.

"It's okay," Mimi comforted, brushing away his tears. "Everyone does dumb things." She paused. "And there's still time to fix it, you know."

"How?" He sniffled. "What can I tell him? I can tell him I'm gay, but there's more to it than that. I can't make him understand…. What's in the bag?"

Mimi picked it back up and put it in her lap. "I don't know. Let's find out, shall we?" She unzipped the duffle, looked inside, and gasped.

Maureen really was a selfish little bitch.

But sometimes she did something so insightful, so wonderful, Mimi just wanted to kiss her.

---

Ha, I have finally managed to leave off at some sort of cliff hanger! I'm really bad at that, so yay :) Oh, and just for you Arakasema, I double checked all my grammar and spelling... wait... (goes and double checks how to spell grammar...) Yes, I was right!

Okay, when I first posted this, I had forgotten that I had given Jason's girlfriend a name and called her Corey, when in the first chapter she was Misty. If you read this chapter before I fixed that, I'm sorry!

Pretty please review!


	7. I Should Tell You

Hey! Thanks for the reviews, you guys! They always make me feel so good :) Anyways, this chapter is a little short, but I should have the last one uptonight or tomorrow (I've been trying really hard to finish this before I leave for camp on Sunday O.o)

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"What is it?" Andy asked, trying to peer inside the duffle bag, wondering where it had come from. He didn't remember Mimi having it when they had come in.

Mimi was smiling disbelievingly. When she started pulling items out of the bag, Andy's eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

Black skirt. Lime green t-shirt with long, pink mesh sleeves. Chocolate-brown wig. Pink stilettos. Make-up.

"How—?" Andy asked, astounded.

"… Never mind that now," Mimi said, smiling. She held out the skirt. "What do you say, Angel? Think Jason can handle the real you?"

Andy took the skirt in his hands. The thought of wearing this in front of Jason was terrifying. But yet….

Maybe it was time.

He nodded grimly and took the bag into a stall to change.

Angel unlocked the stall door and stepped out, looking dolefully at Mimi who laughed and clapped her hands together. "You look adorable!"

When looking in the mirror, Angel saw herself. Not Andy, but Angel. Not an insecure little boy, but a confident queen.

Though inside, she was still terrified.

"What if he… totally blows me off?" she fretted as she applied some eyeliner. "I'm not sure if I can handle that…."

"You can handle anything, baby."

"How do you know?"

"I hear things."

"Like…?"

"That time those dick-heads jumped you and instead of freaking out like any normal person when they're about to become the victim of a hate crime, you knocked one of them out with your platform shoe and clawed the other with your nails so badly he needed stitches."

Angel snorted with laughter, remembering the incident. It certainly hadn't been funny at the time; in fact it was one of the most frightening moments in her entire life, second only to when she received her HIV results. But looking back, it was no less than a miracle that she had gotten out of the incident with little more than a ripped stocking and a broken nail. And the fact that the two butch dudes had been overcome by a skinny guy in drag was pretty darn funny looking back.

Remembering it gave her confidence. She looked at her reflection and smoothed her skirt, slipping into the shoes. They were one of Angel's very favorite pairs. How Mimi had managed this, she had no idea. It was positively brilliant.

_The first time Andy walked in heels was when his cousin Christi came to visit one summer. That girl was super-tall and had really huge feet, like size twelve. One night, Andy was feeling a little under the weather and decided to stay home when everyone went out to dinner at a restaurant he didn't like anyway. Like with his sister's make-up, something made him want to walk around in his cousin's shoes. They were just so darn cute! She had these four-inch, spiked, red heels that Andy strapped onto his own feet. He took a wobbly step on the carpet. Laughing, he kept them on, trying to walk all over the house, even on the stairs. It was so much fun. In the living room he turned on music and shook his ass like a girl in a music video and sang and danced and clip-clopped around in those silly shoes. _

_When his family came home, he was already in his room, all traces of forbidden fun gone, pretending to have been reading the whole time they were out. _

Mimi left the bathroom first, nervous for Angel. She caught Maureen's eye. She smiled, and Maureen winked at her. Mark, who Maureen had attached herself to like a leech at the beginning of the evening, was now sitting on the other side of Collins. Guess those two weren't getting back together after all, surprise surprise. Collins watched the bathroom door expectantly.

Behind the door Angel steadied herself. Her heartbeat had picked up and she felt like she was about to puke up the butterflies in her stomach. She took a deep breath, gave a small, quiet cough, and opened the door, letting Mimi guide her back to the table.

Jason and Misty were whispering, Angel assumed, about her sudden melt-down. They looked up at Mimi. "Is he okay?" Jason asked. Then he appeared to notice Angel. He gave her a strange look.

"Who's this?"

Angel gave a weak half-smile. "Don't recognize me, Jason?"

It took a moment for Jason's expression to change, and when it did, it was only a subtle difference. He looked extremely confused for a second, staring at Angel, taking in the wig, the skirt, the shoes.

Then he burst out laughing.

He laughed loudly and uncontrollably. "Andy?" he gasped, hysterical. "What the hell?"

_Oh my God_, Angel thought, _he thinks it's a joke_.

Misty didn't though. Misty wasn't laughing. She nudged her fiancé. "Jason," she whispered, shaking her head at him. His laughs reduced to chuckles and he wiped his eyes, which had been streaming from laughter.

"What the hell, Andy?" he said again, still sort of smiling. "You can be so weird!"

"I'm not trying to be weird," Angel said, crossing her arms. "Jason, there are a few things I have to tell you."

Jason's grin was disappearing pretty damn fast. "What do you mean?"

Angel took a deep breath. No turning back now.

"I mean, this is me." She spun around, giving him a good look at her. "This is how I dress. This is what I am, what I've always been. I've been lying to you since you got here. I borrowed my friend Mark's clothes. The shoes I borrowed from my friend Roger, because as much as I positively adore these pink ones, I doubted you'd agree. I borrowed Roger's girlfriend too, just incase I said something dumb that I couldn't get out of. I love Mimi, but I'm not in love with her. I have a boyfriend. His name is Tom Collins and I love him more than life itself. Speaking of which, I also have AIDS, which, I might add, I did not get from shooting up heroin or being born with it, but from sleeping with a guy. Yes, Jason. A guy. A guy who definitely didn't love me as much as he said he did, but that's all behind me now. So let's see. You know my biggest mistake and my favorite pair of shoes. What else is there to cover? Oh yes, the fact that I drum on the street! Not in a club. Not in a band. On the sidewalk with homemade drums made of old tubs. I don't care anymore what you think of my lifestyle, I refuse to lie anymore, and you can take it or leave it."

Jason's eyes were wide and shocked from all this information. He sputtered a moment, then choked out, "Andy…."

"And, one more thing," Angel said, leaning her elbows on the table, her face close to Jason's. "My name is not Andy. Andy is dead. It's Angel, and don't you ever call me anything else, honey."

Misty put her arm around Jason, who appeared to be completely shell shocked. He shook his head slowly from side to side as if he couldn't believe it.

Angel bit the corner of her lip. She wasn't really feeling well. Things were starting to tilt a little. A cough tickled her throat, but she tried to push it back down. She met Jason's eyes. She had always been able to read him that way. His eyes revealed everything. And right now his eyes revealed…..

"It's disgusting," Jason said in a very quiet voice. "How…. Why..? It's… wrong, oh god, Andy! What the hell happened to you?"

Angel closed her own eyes for a moment to fight off a wave of sadness and disappointment. She had known all along that it was coming. But it made hearing the words no less painful.

"Let's go, Misty," he said in a horribly superior voice, standing up and wrenching his eyes from Angel's.

She wanted to just let them go. Save some dignity, be too proud to give him any sort of reaction. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of crying or getting angry….

But she couldn't help it.

"How can you be like this?" she shouted, her face flushing. "You were happy to see me ten minutes ago! It's still me, Jason, I'm still the same person under all the—" She began to cough. "All the—" She couldn't stop. "Makeup and…. Oh, damn it!" She leaned against the table to keep standing as she coughed harder and harder….

"Angel!"

It wasn't Jason's voice, or Misty's or even Mimi's. It was Collins's voice and Collins's arms that supported her and Collins's chest that she let herself fall against. She could barely breathe she was coughing so hard, and her eyes watered. When did he get here?

Someone—Mimi—held a glass of water up to her lips. She tried to drink, but was coughing too much to get it down. She would have collapsed had Collins not been holding her.

"I… can't… breathe…," she wheezed, feeling torturously dizzy. She just kept coughing and coughing and could hardly get enough air in to support it.

Collins, terrified, shouted, "Someone call a doctor!"

It was the last thing Angel heard before losing consciousness.

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Okay, so another cliffy, but I swear, I'll finish before I leave! Pretty please review!


	8. Angel

Okay, last chapter! Yay, I've finally finished a story! (I've never actually DONE that, with the exception of one-shots) So anyway, enjoy!

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The waiting room. It was a horrible place, really. A bunch of people sitting, anticipating the diagnoses of loved ones. One man flipped through a newspaper. A woman looked at the muted television without really seeing it. Her two children played with germy little toys on the grey, speckled carpet.

And a whole corner had been taken over by a suspicious, but scared looking group of Bohemians.

Mark had his camera out. Everyone tried to ignore him as he habitually kept the film rolling. Mimi sat perched precariously on the arm of his seat, twisting a pinch of her hair and chewing on her lip, waiting anxiously for Roger. Maureen had called Joanne as well, and sat in the lawyer's lap, burying her head in her shoulder, ignoring the obvious glares from the mother of the two runny-nosed little kids. Jason and Misty sat on the other side of Mark along the other wall, holding each other's hands tightly.

Collins was physically seated beside Maureen and Joanne, but was really miles away. He had rested his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands and stared at the carpet before him. His breathing was heavy and forced, and he was consciously aware of it. Feeling the way his breath flowed in and out; how it fell at the top of the inhale, caught slighting at the bottom of the exhale, kept him just preoccupied enough not to have a complete break-down.

Waiting room.

Waiting waiting waiting room.

Everyone in the room, except the children, jumped slightly when the doctor came in, holding a clipboard. Nine heads turned all at once to where he stood. He was a very tall, thin man, with receding, dark hair and thick glasses. "Tom Collins?" he said.

Collins stood quickly, his eyes holding apprehension and fear. He couldn't read this doctor guy. His voice held no clues. It did not say, "Angel is dead," but it did not say "Angel is just peachy keen" either. And nothing in between. It was a practiced lack of emotion that gave away nothing.

The doctor led Collins to a hall off the waiting room. He looked mostly at his clipboard when he spoke. It all sounded like medical mish-mash to Collins's ears. _It appears that Angel has blah blah blah, and displays la dee da. Blah something something AIDS something. Blah blah blah…._

"But what does that mean?" Collins exploded. The doctor adjusted his glasses. "Is Angel going to get out of this place alive or not!"

"Please settle down, Mr. Collins," the doctor said, suddenly changing his voice to sound kinder and more understanding. "This must be very difficult for you. Are you his… uh…."

"Yes, I'm his fucking 'uh'! Now tell me if he's okay!"

"We'd like to keep him here a few more days, but he should recover… this time."

This time. Now his voice did give something away….

But it was something that Collins did not want to consider right now. At the moment, he just wanted to be happy that his Angel was going to be able to come home.

"I should tell the others," Collins said with a smile. He felt a little kinder toward the doctor now that he had delivered good news. The doctor nodded and led him back to where his friends sat in the waiting room, all looking even more apprehensive than they had previously.

They looked at him. Maureen licked her lips nervously and the eye of Mark's camera stared at him expectantly.

"She's okay."

A slight cheer went up. Mimi and Maureen jumped up and hugged each other. Mark and Joanne exchanged a rare grin, their dislike of one another dissipating for the moment. Misty relaxed and squeezed her fiancé's hand….

Jason looked up at Collins, guiltily. Collins gave him a suspicious once-over. It was quite clear who he blamed for all this.

"When can we see her?" Mimi asked Collins, her arm still around Maureen.

"Soon, honey," said a voice from behind Collins. It was a short, plump nurse with straight grey, shoulder-length hair and rosy cheeks. She smiled warmly at Collins. "He's asking for you," she said.

"Aw, just him?" Maureen whined. "I wanna see her!"

The nurse laughed. "Give the two of them a moment! I'll come back for the rest of you sweethearts, okay?" She winked good-naturedly. "We don't want to overwhelm the poor thing, do we?"

"I am a little overwhelming," Collins heard Maureen admit as he was led back down the hall, her voice fading, "right, Marky?"

"Maureen…."

"Oh, shut up, Joanne, I'm just kidding!"

Angel lay in the hospital room with her eyes closed. It was the second time this year that she'd had an episode that landed her in the hospital. This time was far less frightening though. The first time, she had woken up in the middle of the night, shitting blood, her whole body feeling as if it were on fire. Collins had panicked, his fingers slipping on the buttons as he tried to call 911. He just kept screaming from the other room, "Hold on, Angel! Hold on, baby, you're going to be okay!" while Angel lay on the bed, moaning, gasping, positive that everything would end any second.

This time had been so much less scary. She wasn't coughing anymore, and she was unsure exactly what the doctors had done to achieve that. There was some sort of IV hooked up to her arm, pumping something into her blood. AZT maybe? Can they pump AZT? _Oh shit,_ she thought, _I don't think I took my meds after dinner…. No, I didn't…. Oh, damn I think I should tell the doctors…. No… I'm sure they've taken care of all that…. They're not completely stupid…._

The grey haired nurse, Ruby, as she had introduced herself to Angel, came back into the room. Angel couldn't help herself. She had to make sure….

"Ruby, I didn't take my AZT after dinner, is that—"

"Shh," she said kindly. "You're just fine, Angel. Honey, someone wants to see you."

Angel's heart leapt. "Collins!" she exclaimed. Her voice was hoarse and scratchy from all the coughing, and her throat hurt when she talked.

"Don't strain yourself," Collins laughed from the doorway. He strode over to the bed and leaned down to give Angel a kiss, but stopped a few inches from her lips. He looked back at Ruby. "May I? Or does it screw up sanitation procedures?"

Ruby laughed. "Oh, I'm sure we can make an exception," she teased with a wink. "I'll leave you boys alone." She went out of the room, but left the door open.

Collins grinned and kissed Angel gently. She could not remember a kiss ever feeling so soft and welcome.

When he pulled away, Angel whispered, "Collins, I'm so sorry."

"For what, baby?" he said quietly, smoothing her hair.

"Everything: Jason. Being a bitch…." Collins cut her off by placing a finger on her lips.

"Don't worry about any of it right now. We can talk about it later. When you're feeling better."

"I feel fine—"

"Don't lie to me about this, Angel."

She fell silent. Then smirked and said, "You win." Collins took her hand in both of his and they were cold. "But I'm still sorry."

"I'm sorry too. For not listening."

"Well," Angel smiled, "I'm sorrier."

"I'm sorriest."

"I'm sorriestest."

"I'm sorriestest times infinity plus two."

Angel laughed, and it hurt. She started to cough just a little, and Collins quickly gave her the cup on the table beside her, putting the straw between her lips.

"You okay?" he asked, concerned.

"Yeah. Thanks, honey."

Collins sat down on the chair beside Angel's bed. He took her hand in his, never taking his eyes from her face. She looked pale and sick, but was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He kissed her hand and whispered, "I love you."

"I love you too, Collins."

"Honey?" Ruby was back, her kind face appearing in the doorway. "Are you up for another visitor? There's a young man who says he has to leave soon, and says he really has to speak to you before he does."

Angel exchanged a look with Collins. She felt a knot tie up in her chest, and it wasn't another cough. "Yeah," she said, her voice sounding gravelly. "Tell him to come in."

Collins made a motion as if to leave, to give them privacy, but Angel instinctively tightened her grip on his hand, so he stayed.

Jason walked into the hospital room. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, and his usually perfect hair was standing on end as if he had been running his fingers through it again and again. He used to do that all the time when he was upset.

He glanced at Collins uneasily. The anarchist was glaring fiercely at him again, and Jason looked a little intimidated. Angel picked up on this. "Jason this is Collins. Tom Collins. My boyfriend."

"He knows who I am," Collins growled.

"Collins, be nice."

He looked from Angel to Jason and back. "I'll wait in the hall. Is that okay?"

Angel sort of wanted the comfort of her lover's hand in hers while she faced this, but really, when she thought about it, maybe it was better if she did it on her own. "Go ahead." Collins kissed her on the forehead and left the room.

Angel looked straight at Jason, challengingly. His eyes dropped to the floor.

"Andy, I'm sorry."

She said nothing. Just raised her eyebrows.

"I am!" he insisted. "Really. I… I don't know what I actually think about this whole… thing. You know the fact that you're a…a…."

"Transvestite?" she offered dryly.

The word seemed to startle Jason, but he regained his composure fairly quickly. "Um, and even though I don't know if I…. What I mean is….. Oh god, I don't know what I mean!" He ran a hand through his hair and began pacing the tile floor beside Angel's bed. "What you're doing is wrong, it's so wrong, and I can't honestly say that I'm completely okay with it, but…. Still, it doesn't matter when it comes right down to it, I mean, I freaked out when you came out in that dress but what freaked me out even more was when you said you couldn't breathe! That scared me so bad, Andy, I thought you were gonna die, and it didn't matter what the hell you were wearing or who you were sleeping with, I just didn't want you to die. And then that guy… Collins… he kept looking at me like I had done this to you, and then I started to think that it must have been my fault. I… I don't condone what you're doing, but still…."

He was crying. Angel stared at him open-mouthed. He wasn't sobbing, but his lip quivered and silent tears were sliding down his face.

"I just don't know what to say except that I'm sorry," he concluded, wiping his eyes.

Angel smiled softly at him. "I forgive you."

"You shouldn't"

"But I do."

Jason nodded, sniffling. "Thank you."

Collins reappeared in the doorway, followed by cute blonde Misty. Someone else was behind them, standing on their tiptoes over Misty's head. It was Roger. He caught Angel's eye shrugged sheepishly in apology for his irrational behavior earlier. Angel tried not to giggle and winked at him. No hard feelings. He smiled, waved, and left down the hall.

"Jason?" Misty said quietly. "We have to get going." She came over to Angel's bed and shook her hand. "I can't say you were quite what I expected, Andy Schunard, but It was nice meeting you."

"It was nice meeting you too."

Jason came closer to Angel and looked her in the eyes. Then looked away quickly, as if eye contact made him a little nervous. "Keep in touch?"

I was not a request, but a question. Angel nodded. "Of course."

"It was good seeing you again," Jason said, backing up to the door. "Goodbye Andy—" He paused. Looked at the floor. Looked at her. "I mean, um, Angel."

_He stood dressed in front of the mirror, decked out in sparkles and fishnets and heels. It would be his first night out like this. His friends would be here soon to take him dancing and drinking. He applied a layer of lipgloss and turned to check his butt in the mirror. A name. He needed a name. He could not dress like this and call himself Andy. It didn't fit. _

_It had to be feminine, but not clichéd. He didn't want something trashy or overly- queenish, but on the other hand, his new name could not be generic. He wanted something soft. Something that would be pleasant to be called for years and years._

_He ran names in his head. None of then fit. None were right…._

_And then it came to him._

_"Angel," he said out loud. _

_He saw his reflection smile. Perfect. It was perfect. There was no better name on the entire planet. Nothing he would rather be called. He said it again, "Angel." It felt as though this was the name he was meant to have all along. How could he have gone his entire life being called the wrong name? _

_There was a knock on the door to his apartment. No wait. _Her_ apartment. Yes! She could not stop beaming. She did not think that she had ever felt so happy in her entire life. _

_After one more test to make sure that her wig was secured snugly, Angel turned on her three-inch heel toward the door, ready to finally step out of the closet and into the sun. _

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The end. Hope you all liked it and that it didn't dissapoint anybody. You're reviews have been awfully confidence-boosting, and you all rock my freaking sox :) Next to come? Perhaps something with the Mark/Maureen/Joanne love triangle? Or maybe some Mark/Roger if I can come up with something that's not overdone... Anyways, let me know what you thought of the end! Peace out!


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